


The Hot Dripping Dick (But Not In That Way, You Perverts)

by ChutJeDors



Series: The Hot Series [4]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern AU, a wet hot dripping dick that makes straight men turn gay, drunken unwanted kissing, gay confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 15:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7273003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChutJeDors/pseuds/ChutJeDors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why isn't John's dick interested in women? Why is Ringo's dick interested in women when he has George? Why isn't George spying a very naked Paul? And why is The Dripping Dick™ causing an increased amount of saliva in John's mouth? He doesn't know the answers but he sure as hell wants to.</p><p>Takes place a month or two after the end of the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7272847">Hot Sequel</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hot Dripping Dick (But Not In That Way, You Perverts)

**Author's Note:**

> A while back I saw this in tumblr: _"OTP headcanon: who steps out of the shower half naked and who exhales “wow I’m gay” to themselves"_ , and I immediately knew that this was excellent material for the Hot Sequel Sequel (which goes by another name now- see it in the end (no peeking!)). I've been fighting the HSS for a long time now (I started writing it right after I had finished with the Hot Sequel) and now, a few days back, I decided to make it a one-shot and wrote it in a few days. 
> 
> Beta-ed by [Becca](http://when-winston-met-james.tumblr.com/) who is a wonderful person and you all really need to thank her for this because she's been kicking my arse for the past four months so that I'd write something (also we have a 200 000 word RP going on so that might a reason why I can't get anything else done). She has a way of inspiring me (and actually the name of this comes from her. Thanks hun)

John was not waiting for the porn magazine that hit him in the head at 500 miles per hour.  
  
For a second, he thought he was floating and it felt like his soul had risen above the Earth to the orbit. When his brain shook itself back to the living room sofa, he could as well say he had experienced something traumatising.  
  
He turned his head and stared blankly at George.  
  
“I think it’s yours,” George shrugged and disappeared from the doorway, leaving John all by himself with only Creature and the porn magazine as company. John looked at his cat, who looked like she was not interested in his health at all, and then looked at the porn magazine.  
  
He was pretty sure it belonged to Ringo. George should have known that.  
  
Then why had he proceeded to blow John’s brains out with it?  
  
He reached out for the magazine, holding his breath in case it had some kind of a smelly bomb inside. He hesitated for a second before taking a hold of it, wondering if he should go fetch rubber gloves from the kitchen, but then decided against it. He had a cat in his lap and said cat would not want to budge right now.  
  
It was just a porn magazine. Nothing unusual, although there were some tits that looked slightly smaller than normal in that kind of magazines. John frowned and flipped through it. He could not really find himself interested in the several vaginas presented his way.  
  
“The world just gets more and more boring,” he stated at Creature, who didn’t look at all bothered by it. “It’s like I only ever get boners from Paul. Imagine that, huh?”  
  
Creature yawned and clawed at John’s leg slowly. John twitched and put the porn magazine on the sofa next to him, resuming watching “8 Questions About Sex”. He didn’t know why he was watching that particular program. Even the blond woman’s interestingly huge V-neck in her jumper was not so interesting anymore.  
  
“I am turning gay,” he muttered at the hostess who was eyeing at him with a look that wanted sex. John shuddered at the thought and then right away again at the realisation that before, he would have been more than happy to jump into the bed with those big tits and blond hair.  
  
_”’Clara’ here asks about whether she should stay with a man that is only interested in having sex, but not cuddling afterwards.”_  
  
“Leave ‘im,” John called out and tilted his head with a frustrated sigh. “Post-coital cuddling is the most important part of sex!”  
  
_”’Bernie’ wants to know can his girlfriend get pregnant from pre-cum. Well, Bernie…”_  
  
John rolled his eyes.  
  
“Has Bernie lived in a cave, do you think?” he exchanged a sly glance with Creature before snickering to himself. The sexual knowledge of some people was just… sad.  
  
_”’Anonymous’ wonders whether condoms work or not…”_  
  
“Oh for Jesus’s sake!” John exclaimed loudly, scaring Creature. He reached for the remote control and switched off the TV. “You can’t possibly be that _stupid_!!!”  
  
Unfortunately, it seemed that even in the 21st Century, there were people who just _didn’t know_ these things.

***~**~***

“John,” Ringo called as he stepped into the living room, wearing jeans that hung low on his hips and a blue t-shirt that hugged his torso like a desperate housewife. John raised his eyebrows.  
  
“You look like you’re going out,” he stated and Ringo grinned, blue eyes shining.  
  
“Wanna come?”  
  
“Is George coming?” John asked slowly and suspiciously. Ringo shook his head.  
  
“Thought it’d be just us. ‘Cos Paul’s working late tonight…”  
  
“Yeah,” John nodded and stretched himself. “I’ll just change me clothes. God knows I need a beer.”  
  
Ringo grinned at him and looked more than ready to have that beer as well.  
  
They arrived at Club Spice an hour later, stepping in slowly to avoid bumping with any dancers that had taken up the floor. It was apparent that Ringo was here to hunt; John on the other hand just wanted a beer. Club Spice served several special drinks, and it was known for mixing strong but tasty cocktails that people just _loved_.  
  
“Want something special??” John yelled in Ringo’s ear over Katy Perry’s _Last Friday Night_ that was currently causing hype on the dance floor. In the middle of the floor was a group of young women, some drunk and some on the way there, and they were all singing along from the top of their hearts. Ringo eyed at them and then shot a smile at John’s direction.  
  
“Yeah, sure. Something with orange.”  
  
“You got it, mate,” John said cheerfully and started making his way over towards the bar, slipping past sweaty and loud dancers.  
  
He got himself a golden blond beer called Duvel (he was fairly sure he would remember where it came from as soon as he stepped out of the club -his memory worked that way) and an orange-citrus-some other shit -cocktail for Ringo. He took a straw with him as he went, stealing a sip of cocktail from Ringo’s drink. It tasted great as hell, fruity and sweet.  
  
He spotted Ringo chatting up a young woman with bright red hair. She must have dyed it, because no one would have that kind of hair naturally. The woman seemed more than interested in Ringo, and Ringo seemed very, _very_ interested in her.  
  
John didn’t understand Ringo and George’s relationship, but if it worked while being open like this, then who was he to complain? He knew that there was no way he would _ever_ cheat on Paul.  
  
He gave Ringo his drink and received an introduction: Ellen Kelly, pleased to meet you. John shook hands and smiled pleasantly for a few minutes before he excused himself and found himself a small and a much more quiet spot to drink his special beer. He could not get a chair, so he ended up leaning against the wall, watching the dancers absentmindedly.  
  
Quite close to him was a woman with a blouse that left no room for guessing. Her behaviour didn’t either; she was dead drunk. She was dancing, or trying to, but her legs didn’t seem to be very coordinated. John watched her with mild interest, only to see how the situation would progress.  
  
He also noticed that not once did his eyes leave her face to travel down her (very well-formed, thank you) body. He didn’t know if it was the beer, but in a situation where before he would have taken full advantage and had himself a private show inside his mind, now nothing happened.  
  
_’Maybe I am dead inside,’_ he thought, with eyebrows arched in wonder and lips still sipping his Duvel.  
  
The situation with the woman escalated. She bumped against some dancers that pushed her back, and then she was coming towards John with uncontrollable movements. John had time to react by placing his beer on a nearby table before the woman collided with him and squished him against the wall.  
  
“Uh,” John grunted and carefully placed his hands on the woman’s arms, trying to push her away while keeping her standing. She looked at him with wide, glossy eyes and a smile spread on her face.  
  
“ _Thannnk you_ ,” she slurred, her expression into turning something that looked a bit mad. Her head fell to one side as she kept her eyes on John. He felt like being in a horror game, face to face with a bloodthirsty, good-looking zombie.  
  
“Er, no problem,” he said slowly and tried to disentangle his hands from the woman’s limbs. She followed them though, and then pressed against him with a moan.  
  
“Yyoou ssahv… saved mmee,” the woman said and John said ‘um’. This seemed to encourage his attacker somehow; she threw her arms around him and then, with a loud laugh, smashed her mouth against John’s.  
  
John’s first thought was ‘God help me’. His second thought was ‘Where the fuck is Ringo’. His third one showed real insight to the situation: ‘Paul is gonna fucking slay me’. His fourth thought, and the most stopping one was the realisation that he didn’t feel _anything_.  
  
Not even a slightest tingle in the pit of his stomach. Here he was being (quite wonderfully) snogged by a _very_ willing lady, who had started pressing herself against John. And he didn’t feel anything _at all_.  
  
_’What the fuck is going on with me,’_ John thought almost desperately. He didn’t understand; something must have changed _in_ him.  
  
There was a cough next to them and John forced his eyes open (which was difficult, because the woman was squashing his cheeks upwards), soon meeting Ringo’s slightly amused but also worried gaze.  
  
“Er, my good lady,” he started as John sent SOS-signals with his expression, “I am terribly sorry but me and my mate gotta leave.”  
  
The woman didn’t seem to be hearing, instead moaned against John’s mouth, wrapping one of her legs around John. John’s hands were on her arms, trying to push her away, but she was _hell of_ a strong one, and John feared that he might hurt her if he pushed too hard. Besides, she had a strangling hold on his neck. Maybe that was why he was so _unattracted_ to her.  
  
“Hmm,” Ringo said, frowning just like he did when they were playing Cluedo and it was his turn to think.  
  
John gasped for breath when there was a small second without kissing. He tried to speak then, but the precious time had gone to breathing. The woman continued the assault and John started panicking. Paul would _smell_ this later. He would _see_ the guilt John would carry from this, even though John had basically done… nothing.  
  
Ringo stepped forward and tapped the woman on the shoulder.  
  
“Miss,” he tried again, looking like this was a 100000 piece puzzle. “I think you need to go to check your makeup. It looks a bit messy.”  
  
The woman gasped and pulled away from John, her (apparently waterproof) makeup still perfectly in place.  
  
“Shstaay herre,” she slurred and waved a hand in John’s general direction. “I lllike yyoou.”  
  
“Yeah,” John coughed, feeling dirty and wet from the kiss. He could now say that it had been disgusting. “See you.”  
  
The woman teetered away, her walking looking quite dangerous for other people. John and Ringo looked at her back for a few seconds before they turned to look at each other.  
  
“Home,” Ringo said quickly and John nodded, letting out a huge breath. He reached for his beer and chugged the rest of it down as fast as he could, and then they were out, walking quickly towards the underground.  
  
For a while it was silent as they waited for the train. Then Ringo turned his head on John and raised his eyebrows silently.  
  
John met his gaze and looked slightly miserable.  
  
“I really think women are not my thing anymore,” he said and Ringo nodded, not blaming or shaming, but understanding. He patted John’s shoulder with an empathetic smile.  
  
“I think I could agree, had I been in your place,” he stated and John wanted to say that no, it was not that, this was something else, but he could not get the words out of his mouth. Instead he turned his thoughts to Paul and groaned quietly.  
  
“Paul will kill me,” he said sadly, saying goodbye to his precious life. Ringo chuckled.  
  
“I think he’ll understand, better than most. He’s sensitive that way.”  
  
“He’s part sensitive, part hysterical,” John muttered and buried his face in his hands, sighing deeply. “Maybe he’d keep my dick as a memento.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ringo said before they succumbed into a silence. “Maybe he would.”

***~**~***

“I’m sorry,” John said quietly as they stepped into the flat and started removing their coats. “You lost a shag.”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry,” Ringo grinned. “I’ll just keep George awake a bit longer.”  
  
_’Why would you go find someone else in the first place then?’_ played in John’s mind, but he didn’t say anything, only smiled like he understood. In truth, he was confused as well.  
  
Maybe one day he would understand why Ringo and George were the way they were, but it was not this day.  
  
They arrived at the flat around 22 o’clock, and John felt utterly exhausted. He only wanted to brush his teeth, take a piss and then go to bed. Ringo didn’t seem to be affected by the time. He was whistling to himself, without a real care of whether the neighbours would like it at this time or not.  
  
John quickly stopped in the kitchen to drink a glass of water, and then he dug through the flat for Paul. The lad should be _somewhere_.  
  
“If you’re lookin’ for your pretty one, he’s in the shower,” George said over his shoulder and then returned his attention to a movie that looked suspiciously like _Snow Dogs_. John had always thought that movie a bit weird, but then again, a movie that had a plot like ‘a popular dentist who hates dogs hears he is adopted and originates from a dead cold village in Alaska and has inherited his mother’s hellish sled dogs’ could be a bit weird. It had all the rights.  
  
“Okay,” John sighed, “thanks.”  
  
“I think he left the door open,” George said in an absent-minded voice. “Thinks I wouldn’t go in with the movie on.”  
  
“Well, have you?” John raised his eyebrows, ready to throw something at George if his boyfriend's chastity had been in danger.  
  
“No,” George continued in the same blank voice, then paused for a long time as the dentist tried to fight the leader dog that was basically the main antagonist. John stared at the back of George’s head.  
  
“I was watching the… movie…” George continued and his voice faded away as he seemed to either lose interest in talking to John or forget his existence.  
  
_’Well,’_ John thought and left the living room with a shrug, _’That’s a first.’_  
  
He tried the bathroom handle at first and when it seemed that the door wasn’t locked, he pushed his head in. Paul was indeed in the shower, the misty glass concealing his body, but he was humming in a way that was really, really Paul-ish.  
  
“Hey,” John called and the figure behind the glass turned, jumping slightly before relaxing.  
  
“John?” Paul’s voice echoed slightly in the shower and John let out a content sigh. Only hearing Paul’s voice after this awful night made him feel better.  
  
“Yeah,” he answered and stepped inside, locking the door now. He didn’t need George in (in case the lad realised that Paul and John were now _both_ inside the bathroom) at the moment.  
  
“You were out?” Paul asked and John let out a strangled noise.  
  
“John..?”  
  
“Yeah,” John grimaced and stopped in front of the mirror, seeing to his horror that there were lipstick marks all over his mouth. “I had a beer and Ringo almost had a girl.”  
  
“Almost?” Paul’s voice had a humorous note in it and John heard a shampoo bottle being opened.  
  
“I- I didn’t want to stay after the beer,” John said and started ferociously rubbing his face with soap, hoping that the _stuff_ would come out. It seemed to work, somehow. “And Ringo came with me. Said he could, uh, ‘keep George awake a bit longer’.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Paul chuckled and then the bathroom was filled with the sound of the water falling on the shower floor in big droplets as he started washing the shampoo away.  
  
John, with his face thankfully clean, reached for the toothbrush and put an extra amount of toothpaste. Maybe Paul wouldn’t notice anything weird in the way he tasted in case there was some kissing later on.  
  
He listened to Paul’s quiet, soft humming as he jerked his hand back and forth, trying to clean every small spot behind his teeth. At one point he sat down on the toilet, closing his eyes as he rubbed his front teeth.  
  
There was a sound of the shower door being opened and he opened his eyes, ready to meet Paul’s eyes and maybe get a smile that would make his day _so_ much better.  
  
Instead he got a wet, well-formed body that was oozing warmth and hotness all the way to John.  
  
His mouth fell open and the movements of his hand stilled as his eyes widened and brain hit a stop.  
  
_’Wow,’_ was the only thing in his mind, hitting his forehead like the big-arse clockwork of Big Ben. _’I’m gay.’_  
  
“John?” Paul asked with slight concern in his voice as he reached for a towel and started drying himself, his hair sticking in every possible direction, his legs long and his…  
  
John swallowed half of the toothpaste in his mouth and started slowly moving the brush again.  
  
…his dick dripping water on the floor, one drop at a time. John was mesmerised.  
  
“Jooohn..?” Paul leant forward, the towel around his shoulders as he dried his back, his eyes searching for John’s. John let out a gurgling sound and jumped on his feet.  
  
He let out another gurgling sound and dashed over to the sink, spitting the toothpaste out, starting to cough right away.  
  
“…Joooooohnnn….?”  
  
He was _gay_. He was definitely, irrevocably and without a regret, _gay_.  
  
“You should probably drink a bit?” Paul hovered over John’s shoulder with huge eyes and John turned his gaze on the man before nodding, slightly overwhelmed by his thoughts. He had never thought that his innocent beliefs of being a straight man who just happened to fall for a man would come to a halt in their bathroom at 22 o’clock with his _boyfriend_ standing naked behind him.  
  
Well. Actually there was no situation that would have been more _logical_.  
  
Paul’s eyes never left him as John first tried to drown himself on water and then proceeded to squeeze his dick empty of piss and life equally. The dark, big pools of sinful chocolate followed him as he drank a bit more and then took a shit. Even when Paul was putting his night shirt on he still somehow managed to look at John.  
  
John was sweating. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t know how, but there was an unmistakable feeling of _want_ in the pit of his stomach, want that was directed _directly_ towards Paul’s dick. He thought about it as he put on his pyjamas and as he lay down on the bed, Paul crawling next to him almost immediately. He thought about it as Paul turned off the light and let out a deep, content sigh of relief at finally being in bed. He thought about it as his hands reached out and grabbed Paul, pulling him towards himself and embracing him.  
  
“Are you alright?” Paul asked quietly and John let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.  
  
“Yeah,” he mumbled, wishing that sleep would come soon. The image of Paul’s dick with a droplet of water on the tip of it was burnt in the back of his head and he shuddered, tightened his hold of his boyfriend. He _wanted_ it.  
  
He didn’t even need to ask what was going on, or why. He knew why. Paul had made him gay and now John was paying for it.  
  
“I drank a Belgian beer,” he said and realised that yeah, now he remembered where the beer came from. It had been a good one, too.  
  
“Hmm,” Paul hummed and nuzzled at John’s cheek before pressing a small kiss to it. “Next time we’ll go together.”  
  
“Yeah,” John said. “It was dead boring without you.”  
  
Paul’s laugh had once been the only thing that he had needed from the man. But now it felt like his needs had increased.  
  
_’Holy hell. How am I ever even gonna suggest it to him?’_ he thought, Paul’s breathing gradually getting slower and deeper.  
  
Maybe he should just bury it. Better to never think of it again. That could work. Yeah.  
  
Lying there in the dark, seeing Paul’s dick every time he closed his eyes, he knew that forgetting would be impossible.  
  
He just had to stop thinking about it. Find a distraction.  
  
He was sure that there would be one soon enough.

 

***~ THE END~***

**Author's Note:**

> **Or is it? The adventures will continue in The Hot Homosexual Tension...**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **.......some time during next year probably im sorry ill try writing faster**
> 
> Comments are always nice and kudos aren't too bad either!


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